


The Bite

by frozen_hearted



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Stiles Stilinski Accepts The Bite, beta!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozen_hearted/pseuds/frozen_hearted
Summary: I was rewatching Teen Wolf and got to wondering: what would've happened if Stiles had taken Peter's offer of the Bite back in S1E12? Here is my retelling of that certain scene.





	1. Chapter 1

The tires squealed as I turned sharply into a parking spot. Peter was sitting beside me, unnervingly calm. I parked and snatched my keys from the ignition, hoping out quickly, slamming my door shut. Before I could even think of turning around, Peter had his hand on the collar of my shirt and he was pulling me towards a little silver car three spots away. He let me go to reach into his pocket.

“Whose car is this?” I asked as he pulled from one a set of keys.

“It belonged to my nurse,” he said lowly, fitting the key into the lock.

“What happened to your- _oh my god_!” The stench of death hit my nose when he opened the trunk, the mangled body of who I assumed to be his nurse lying curled around a grey messenger bag. Peter seemed unfazed by the woman’s glassy eyes as reached in and grabbed the bag. He shoved it at me and, instinctively, my arms wrapped around it, pulling it to my chest. I continued to stare, transfixed, at the dead woman’s ghostly white face. There was amusement in Peter’s voice as he answered my unfinished question, “I got better.” With that, he shut the trunk, but the vision of the woman’s body was stilled burned into my mind.

He snatched the bag from my hands, placing it on the trunk. “Good luck getting a signal down here,” I said when he pulled what looked like a phone from one of the small, front pockets. It wasn’t a phone, but a portable Wi-Fi router. “Oh, great, wi-fi. And you’re a Mac guy,” I said of the computer he then pulled from the large pocket. “That go for all werewolves or just personal preference?” His dark eyes narrowed at me and the twinge of fear in my stomach stopped me from making another smart-ass remark.

“Turn it on, get connected.”

“You know, you’re really killing the whole werewolf mystique here,” I said, nonetheless turning over the portable router to see it’s connection information. My fingers twitched above the keyboard, logic and loyalty finally pushing aside my fear, if only briefly. “Look,” I began, sucking in a breath, “you still need Scott’s username and password and, I’m sorry, but I don’t know them.”

“You know both of them.”

“No,” I insisted, turning to look at him, “I don’t.”

His eyes were dark when they met mine, annoyance and a calm indifference swirling in them. “Even if I couldn’t hear your heart beat,” I cursed silently as he said that, trying to will my heart beat to slow, “I would still be able to tell that you’re lying.”

A last attempt at holding out, I tried still to convince him I didn’t know. “Dude, I swear to God-” However, I didn’t get to finish. Peter’s large hand whipped up more quickly than humanly possible, flattening itself against my neck and pushing my face hard onto the trunk. The sound reverberated through the empty parking garage and I groaned at the pain that shot up the side of my face.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles,” he said, putting more pressure on the back of my neck, making it harder for me to breath. “Don’t make me _persuade_ you.”

“Okay,” I managed, though the sound was muffled, “I’ll help you.”

The pressure let up and then Peter was once again tugging on the back of my shirt, this time pulling me to stand upright. “Good.” Without saying another thing to me, he motioned to the computer and stepped away. I clicked on the mouse pad and the screen lit up, revealing a near barren home screen. Peter pointed to an icon in the top left-hand corner. “Click on it.” I tapped twice on the icon, it was a black box outlined in green, a system of binary numbers condensed inside the square.

“You already have it set to find Scott’s-”

“Yes, now type.”

My fingers hovered for a moment over the keys before Peter let out a low rumble of a warning. My neck still aching from moments ago, I began to type. It fell silent between us as he watched me type away, entering word after word in both username and password field. They were all old logins that I remembered from years before, but now none of them were working.

“What happens after you find Derek,” I said finally, when the silence became too much for me.

“Don’t think, Stiles,” Peter spat, suddenly too close, “type.” I flinched away from him, my fingers slowing as they moved over the keys.

“You’re going to kill people, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, I already knew the answer.

His voice was softer when he next spoke, like a parent explaining something to a child. “Only the responsible ones,” he said. Curious, I turned my face and looked at him. His eyes were soft like his voice, strangely calming to my overactive nerves.

_It’s a trick_ , I reminded myself. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked back at the computer, remembering exactly what I was doing and to _who_. “Look, if I do this,” my eyes met his once more and they were no longer soft, once more guarded by annoyance and indifference. “You have to promise to leave Scott out of it.”

Peter looked away and heaved a sigh, “do you know why wolves hunt in packs? It's because their favored prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I need Derek _and_ Scott.” His tone was clipped, it was clear to me he was not going to budge on his decision. “I need both of them.”

“He’s not gonna help you.”

“Oh, he will. Because, it'll save Allison. And you will, because it will save Scott.” He paused, creeping closer to me. “ _Your best friend_ ,” I could feel his amusement rolling off him in waves, “whom you know so well, you even have his username and password.” With a final sigh, I tried one last pair I had a feeling would work. Peter’s amusement began to fade away quickly as I typed the first word into the username slot. “His username is Allison?” I typed the next word into the password slot and Peter’s self-satisfied look dropped to one of annoyance. “His password is also Allison?”

“Still want him in your pack?”

Peter sighed, turning away to rub at his temples before gruffly ordering me to hit enter. The key clicked in the quiet and a map suddenly appeared. At first, it was wide, showing the round Earth and all the oceans, but it quickly zoomed in to the North American continent, then the United States. The location bounced back and forth between Washington state and northern California before finally settling with the latter. It zoomed in closer and I recognized the name of our county before that too was blurred out and replaced by Beacon Hills. Again, the map reoriented itself, flying across roads and woods until it stopped at a very familiar looking place.

“That’s where they’re keeping him?” Peter returned to my side, looking at the screen with rapt attention. “His own house?”

A look of understanding crossed his face and he smiled. “Not at it, under it.” He stuffed his hand into an inside jacket pocket, looking for something. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper that he then moved to his pants pocket. “I know exactly where that is.” But Peter’s accomplished attitude left him when a dull howl reached us. He turned his face towards the sound, looking out over the parking garage half-wall and into the forested hills. “And I’m not the only one.”

_Scott_. I thought, a sliver of hope alighting in my stomach, until Peter smothered it with his cold words. “Move.” He ordered, voice lifeless and hard. When I didn’t, he pushed me, sending me stumbling into the car beside us. Pain shot up my side and I rubbed at my arm, which took the brunt of the hit, watching as he packed away the Mac and the wireless router. He opened the back door of the little silver car and tossed the bag carelessly inside. When he straightened, I stepped away from him. The same howl from before, only louder this time, reached us again and Peter looked towards the noise. “Give me your keys,” he demanded, hand held out flat.

His tone left no room for argument – not that I would’ve if it hadn’t, he was a very powerful Alpha werewolf, I was a scrawny human. With a heavy sigh, I fished around in my front pocket until my fingers touch the metal ring holding together my keys. “Careful,” I said, dropping them into his awaiting hand, “she grinds in second.” He closed his fist around my keys and I heard the squeaking sound of metal bending. When he opened his hand, all of my keys were bent. He handed them back to me with a barely concealed smile.

As he moved to get in the car, a thought came to my mind. I couldn’t stop the words before they left me. “So, you’re not going to kill me?” I asked. Peter paused, looking at me for a moment, almost appraising me. Something flashed in his eyes and he took two steps forward, stopping when I flinched away.

“Don't you understand yet? I'm not the bad guy here.” There was something new in his voice, not desperation exactly, but a somewhat watered-down version of it. Like he was trying to make me _understand_ him.

I snorted in disbelief. “You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, and you're not the bad guy here?”

“I like you, Stiles.” I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, _yeah, right. Of course, you do._ “Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?”

Shock quickly replaced my annoyance and I looked at Peter, wide eyed. “What?” I managed, my throat constricting around the word.

“Do. You. Want. The bite?” He paused for a moment, for dramatic effect, I assumed. “If it doesn’t kill you, and it could, you’ll become like us.”

I could hardly fathom what he was saying. _Become… like him._ “Like you.”

He rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping off every word as he said, “yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?” But then, something changed. He took a step closer to me and his eyes dropped, again growing darker. However, this was not the same stony dark they’d been before. There was something in his eyes, a promise, a promise that had my stomach knotting. When he spoke, his voice was soft and low. Smooth, like dark chocolate. Sinister, yet so inviting. “That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals. Maybe more.” Slowly, he reached towards me, his hand wrapping lightly around my wrist, pulling it up close to his face. His hot breath hit the exposed skin, sending goosebumps up my arm. For a moment, the two of us were still. I watched my arm, so close to his face, and he watched me. “Yes or no?” He finally asked.

I couldn’t breathe, it was like someone had sucked the air from the room. My mind was churning, reeling with the thoughts of possibilities. _I could be like Scott, unstoppably powerful and popular._ Peter was smart, taunting me with the things I’d never had. The things I’d always wanted. He was cruel, reminding me that I was nothing when compared to others. For a long while I remained silent, lost in my thoughts, until Peter growled, pulling me back into the present.

“Yes or no, Stiles?”

_No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl… Lydia…_ The thought of Lydia noticing me with my newfound strength made my pounding heart stutter. “You'd be equals,” Peter’d said. _Equals_. No more, “oh, you’re Scott’s friend?” No more, “hey Stilinski, ask McCall if he wants to hang out this weekend.” No more, “oh, you know Scott? Could you give this to him for me?” No more Scott over Stiles.

I couldn’t force myself to say the word, so I simply nodded. Peter’s face lit up with a smile and, though my stomach was turning, a sense of excitement welled in me. “Is that a yes?” I nodded once more and he pushed up my sleeve, as far up my arm as it would go, stopping at my elbow. He pulled me in closer, leaning down so his breath hit my face. “I need to hear you _say_ it.” His smile widened at the uncomfortable look on my face. The nervousness fluttering around in my stomach made me squirm. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, though when I spoke the sound was still breathless.

“ _Yes_.”

“Open your eyes, Stiles.”

Again, I breathed a deep breath in, willing myself to be calm before I opened my eyes. Red. Two, glowing red eyes met mine and, suddenly, I was afraid. For a moment, I thought about retracting my yes, but, before I could even open my mouth, Peter’s jaw unhinged and his fangs pierced the tender skin of my forearm.


	2. Chapter 2

Pain, in the form of intense heat, unlike any I’d ever felt before radiated from the bite. It spread up my arm and down to my toes, making my fingers go numb. My knees buckled as the heat grew to be too much for me and Peter pulled his mouth away from me, letting me drop to my knees. I gently cradled my arm against my chest, watching the blood pulse and pour from the open wound. All of a sudden, the nervousness I’d felt was gone, the fear of looking at him was gone. A strange sense of pride welled up in my chest as I watched the blood drip drown my wrist, collecting in a puddle on the concrete below me. Above me, Peter laughed and I looked up. His eyes were still glowing red, his bloody fangs still extended, my blood dripping from his mouth. But, now, I wasn’t afraid.

He smiled at me, extending his hand. I took it, with the hand that wasn’t pulsing in pain, and he helped me to my feet. “Not so bad, Stiles,” he laughed, “was it?” His smile was infectious and I found myself slightly smiling as well, despite everything in me that told me not to, as I shook my head in reply to his question. For a moment, he looked at me, his eyes still glowing, and then they flickered down to my wrist. His eyes returned to their normal color, his fangs drawing back, but my blood still stayed on his chin. “Here,” he said, and he opened the door, leaning inside to grab something. When he leaned back, he held in his hand a roll of gauze. “Wrap your arm.” I took the gauze without a word, wrapping my arm tightly. Peter watched me for a moment, leaning with an amused look against the silver car. When I’d wrapped the wound sufficiently, he nodded, closing the back door, refusing me as I tried to hand the gauze back to him. “Keep it,” he said, “you may be needing it more than you think.” It was quiet between us once more and then, with a satisfied nod, Peter moved towards the driver’s side door. “Good bye, Stiles,” he said before sliding in.

I watched him shut the door and then the small car purred to life. It forced me to step back as it whipped out of its parking spot and out into the parking garage, its sounds fading away until I could no longer hear them. With Peter’s car gone, and Peter himself nowhere near, the reality of the situation hit me full force. My eyes widened as I looked down at my bandaged arm, where blood was already starting to seep through the gauze. _I accepted the bite. From Peter Hale._ The pride I’d once felt turned to sickness, a wave of nausea sending me back to my hands and knees. I could still feel the heat from Peter’s mouth wrapped around my smooth skin, and the thought made my stomach churn almost painfully. When I closed my eyes, I could still see his. Shinning red, like a Blood Moon. His eyes were the eyes of a monsters. And those eyes would soon be my eyes… I could not hold back any longer the bile that was fighting its way up my throat. The sounds of my retching echoed in the back of my mind, playing like a backtrack for the sickening thought that had caused this. _I’d accepted Peter’s bite_.

When the nausea had mostly passed, I pushed myself upright, leaning back against the car behind me. My head was dizzy, my vision spinning as I looked up at one of the flickering lights of the parking garage. I closed my eyes tightly, but his eyes were still there, his seductive and mocking eyes. I tried hard to forget them, thinking about anything and everything to erase his smug features from my mind. _Winning lacrosse games, playing bloody video games, having dinner with my dad, seeing Lydia after school –_ Lydia. My head suddenly became clear and Peter’s face vanished like a mirage in the desert. Lydia Martin, with her strawberry blonde hair and her radiant smile and her stunning intelligence. I found myself smiling as I remembered us shopping together for the dance. We went together to the dance. I held her close as we danced and then… then –  Then Peter happened.

My eyes snapped open, panic flooding my system. Peter happened. Peter _bit_ Lydia. I was on my feet and running before I could even process what I had thought of. Frankly, I didn’t care if there was any rational rhyme or reason to my thoughts, all I knew was Lydia was hurt. Peter had bitten her. I pushed myself faster, faster than I thought I could run, breathing hard, as I ran through the streets towards the hospital. When I arrived, I was out of breath and fatigued, gauze still clutched in my fist. “Hello,” said the woman at the desk, “are you okay, sir? How can I help you?”

“Lydia Martin,” I heaved, “where’s Lydia Martin?”

“Sir,” the woman’s voice grew concerned, “are you sure you’re okay? Your arm-”

“I’m fine!” I snapped, though I took a glance down at my arm to find the spot covering Peter’s bite was soaked red in blood. “I’m fine, I just… where is Lydia Martin’s room?”

“Are you sure you don’t need to sit down?”

“Yes! I can handle this! It’s nothing! Now,” I sucked in a deep breath, “where is Lydia?”

The woman looked fearful of me as she looked down at the sheet in front of her. “She’s in the Intensive Care Unit, room 331.”

“Thank you.”

I took off towards the elevator, my legs pushing me as fast as I they could carry me. I slammed the up button, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for it to arrive. Finally, the door squeaked open. A shooting pain sparked up my arm when it brushed against it as I hurriedly slid by, but I ignored it to the best of my ability. Frantically, I hit the button number three, willing the slow doors to close faster. When they finally shut, the old elevator began to creak as it ascended two floors. The thirty second ride felt like the longest in the world to me, as with every second that ticked by my nerves wound tighter and tighter. When the bell dinged, signaling my arrival, I sighed, pushing through the doors the moments they squeaked open. She was the first thing my eyes saw, lying there, unconscious on a hospital bed with a mask on her face. I rushed towards her, my eyes focused only on her, until a hard body slammed into me, forcing me backwards.

“You know what,” an angry voice hissed as whoever it was grabbed a hold of my shirt, “it’s a good thing we’re in a hospital because I am going to _kill_ you.” I recognized quickly after that it was my father, his face red as he shoved a finger at my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, “I lost the keys to my jeep, I had to run all the way here.”

“Stiles! I don’t care!” He yelled, pushing me back a few inches.

I ignored the dull ache in my chest at his action and looked over his shoulder. Lydia’s mother was sat beside her, stroking her hair. My heart broke, as did my voice as I asked, “is she gonna be okay?”

He followed my gaze, watching her mother like I was, and then he sighed. His eyes were tired when he looked back at me. “They don’t know,” he said softly. “Partially because they don’t know what happened.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, protectively covering my bloody and bandaged arm with the gauze in my good hand. “She lost a lot of blood,” I dropped my eyes to the floor, acknowledging the pain in my arm and wondering exactly how she must be feeling, “but there’s something else going on with her.”

“What-What do you mean?”

“The doctors say it’s like she’s having an allergic reaction.” I thought back to what Peter had said before: _“… if it doesn’t kill you, and it could…”_ My body froze at the thought that crossed my mind. Lydia’s body is rejecting the bite. I only barely heard my father as he continued what he’d been saying, “her body keeps going into shock.” Is that what happens if your body rejects it? Shock? “Did you see anything?” I looked up at my father with wide eyes. “I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked her.”

For a moment I thought about screaming, “YES! Yes, I know who did! Peter Hale! He’s a werewolf! He bit her and he bit me, too!” But my throat constricted on those words and I found myself uttering something completely different.

“No. No, I have no idea.” I could clearly see my father didn’t believe me, but he dropped it and instead moved on and asked about Scott. “What do you mean? What about him?”

“Did he see anything?”

“What do- is he not here?” Panic began to resurface, I could feel my lungs begin to constrict. My head began to grow fuzzy.

My father narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you talking about?” He began, “I’ve been calling him on his cell phone. I’ve gotten no response.”

My head was swimming with thoughts, many of them too loud to comprehend, but there was one I could discern amongst the rest: _Peter, Scott, and Derek._ With blurry eyes, I looked up at Jackson, who was standing by the window that looked into Lydia’s room. He shook his head, his eyes wide. I looked down at my arm, my eyes catching the red amongst the white, and thought back on everything that had happened this evening. And then I remembered. Derek has Scott’s phone.

“And you’re not gonna get one,” I finally said, my voice soft.

“Stiles?” Questioned my father, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I choked out, stumbling my way towards the waiting room chairs. “Just, uh, just need to sit…” I faintly heard my father calling my name, but my head was pounding and my vision was spinning. I felt the cold of the tile before I felt the pain. Suddenly, there was a splitting pain in my temple and my shoulder was aching. The bloody arm that I’d bandaged in the parking garage was pinned between my body and the floor. I was rolled onto my back and above me I recognized through blurry eyes the faces of my father and Ms. McCall.

“Stiles!” They both called, but the sound was muffled, like I was underwater. “Stiles! Can you hear me?” I nodded as best I could. “What happened to you?” Ms. McCall was raising my arm, beginning to unwrap the bloody gauze. I panicked. They would find out. They would see the bite. “Stiles!” They exclaimed as I ripped my arm away, trying to fight to sit upright. “Stiles, please! Let me see what’s wrong! Let me help you!”

I was crying now, tears slipping down my face. “You can’t help me! No one can…”

My father pinned my shoulders to the floor and Ms. McCall once again lifted up my arm. I heard my father address Jackson, but my hearing was too far gone to hear what they were saying. The pressure over the wound went away as Ms. McCall unwrapped the gauze. I could feel the blood beginning to flow freely once more and winced at the pain when Ms. McCall ran her fingertips over the bite wound. “Stiles!” She gasped, “what happened?”

There was a darkness that loomed just out of my reach, but I could feel it approaching. My tired mind scrambled to find some excuse as the darkness pressed forward. I could feel the darkness begin to swallow up my senses. My limbs became heavy and black spots danced across my eyes. The sound of white noise rang in my empty mind. Through the black spots I saw Ms. McCall’s mouth moving, she was saying something, something like, ‘Stiles, can you hear me?’ And then, there was a moment of clarity. My heart skipped a beat, my vision was suddenly blinding and I could hear anything and everything.

“Animal attack!” I gasped, before the wave of darkness fully overtook me.


	3. Chapter 3

Firstly, there was nothing. A blank nothingness so mind numbing I could feel myself falling asleep even _within_ my sleep. Then, like little stars, something began to glow steadily brighter and brighter.

_Red_.

A set of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness behind my eyelids, a blood-chilling roar echoed in my the quiet of my mind. Fear knotted in my chest as around the red eyes grew a wolf’s head. Its black fur stood on end, its chewed up ears flattened against its skull. Its muzzle curled back in a snarl, showing off sharp and bloody teeth. I could feel its power, radiating through its eyes. Its power pressed down on me, and pain – sharp, splitting pain – rattled my head the longer the wolf stared. The stronger the pain became, the bigger the wolf’s head grew, until it seemed to almost be looking down on me, forcing me into submission.

The wolf’s red eyes twinkled in amusement as I cowered beneath it. It breathed out through its nose, the sound almost like a chuckle. And then, suddenly, it was a chuckle. Deep and human. I looked up and saw the wolf’s face was gone. In its place was the face of Peter Hale, the grisly face I’d seen before he’d sunk his fangs into my arm. His eyes glowed brighter than they had last night, his fangs were longer, too. He was the true embodiment of nightmares. His mocking laugh rang throughout my empty head. I was too afraid to think of anything else.

But, then, once again, the face changed. As did the eyes. The red vanished, instead to be replaced by a vibrant, glowing yellow. The face that surrounded the eyes was soft and familiar; I quickly recognized it as my own. For a few moments, I stared, transfixed, into my own strange, new eyes, the fear from before fading away. My head turned and I felt as if calling out, wanting to see the calming glow of yellow once more. Though, when I finally looked back at myself, a feeling of cold swept through me, freezing my insides. The eyes had changed again. A pair of icy blue eyes stared back at me now, their piercing gaze sucking the air from my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe. There was a nothingness in those eyes, surrounded by my now hardened face, that had a painfully uncomfortable feeling knotting in my stomach.

I prayed, as the blue eyes appraised me, for the dream – nightmare – to end, and for a moment, I believed it did. My face faded away, soon followed by the soulless blue eyes that sat where my own eyes normally were and I began to relax. I could feel a calm begin to wash over me, lulling me back into a dreamless sleep, until a soft growl caught my attention. The darkness vanished and in its place, I saw a forest. The same forest where Scott and I had found the severed half of a dead body, the same forest where Scott was attacked and bitten by Peter. Helpless and afraid, I looked around me, for any sign of something good. But the canopy was too thick for much of the moonlight to shine through and the twigs upon the ground snapped with every breath I took.

The soft growl grew louder and I braced myself to once again come face-to-face with Peter’s ugly face as two red eyes appeared through the dark. But it wasn’t Peter’s face I saw connected to those red eyes. Whoever it was, they were shorter than Peter, even if their shoulders hadn’t been hunched forward it was quite obvious. I could see the outline of their figure and noticed they were smaller in build than him as well. Their hair was buzzed short, nearly right against their scalp. The froze knot in my stomach rose high into my throat as the person – no, the _monster_ – took their steps into the lone beam of moonlight shining down on the forest floor.

I recognized the shirt he wore – it was one of my favorites, an old Star Wars t-shirt with Luke, Leia and Han in front of the Millennium Falcon – and the tattered jeans and the worn out, faded blue sneakers. His hands were clenched into fists at his side and I could see droplets of red blood dripping out from the spaces between his fingers. The veins in his arms stood out in relief, but I could still see, that on his right forearm there was the scarred over, silver outline of a bite mark. My throat closed of its own accord as my eyes dragged up the person’s torso and then his neck, finally stopping at his lips, which were curled back in a snarl, revealing long, white fangs. Through his clenched jaw, he hissed and growled, snapping his jaw as he shrieked into the darkness, “ _LOOK AT ME!_ ” I couldn’t disobey his command, though I tried, digging my own sharpened nails into my palm, and my eyes snapped to his. He sneered in amusement, chuckling, “look at you.”

In the darkness, illuminated by the full moon and his glowing, red eyes, blood dripping from his clenched fist, was myself. “Look at you, _Alpha_.” He spat, “cold, alone, without either pack or friends.” In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of me. His – _my_ – heavy, foul-smelling breath was fanning across my face with every heavy breath he breathed; his manic red eyes were gazing into my own, consuming me. “Look what you’ve become.” Then he was far away again, laughing the same taunting laugh that Peter had before. His body twitched and I heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. His laughter grew louder, roaring in my ears as I watched as he fell to his knees, his body contorting, twisting and bending in inhuman ways. Though I wanted to, I could not look away. I watched as my body disappeared – hands turning to paws; fingers growing into claws; dark brown fur, the same color as my hair, sprouting across the pale skin. My face shifted, elongating into a snarling muzzle complete with sharp teeth that snapped as he continued to laugh.

When, finally, the cracking and crunching of bones and the cackling stopped, what I had known as my own body was gone. In its place was the monstrous form of a large and powerful wolf. The wolf looked at me with a knowing and amused glint in its blood red eyes. I watched, helpless, as it raised its head to the darkness above us and opened its mouth to let out a banshee-like howl.

 

*******

 

The howl rang in my ears as I jerked awake in a hospital bed, my heart hammering against my ribcage. I flinched at the white light that assaulted my eyes. It made my head pound, a stinging pain growing just above my eyebrow. I groaned and went to rub at the spot, only to find I was incapable to. When my eyes finally adjusted to the light, the first thing I noticed was how crisp everything was; how every single detail seemed to stand out in sharp relief. I could see the individual threads on the short curtains hanging above the window, outside which the yellow sun was shining. The green of the leaves on the trees were more vibrant than before, the color of the sky a richer blue. The water droplets in the clouds floating by were refracting light into a million tiny rainbows – the brightness of it burned, but I couldn’t look away. When I did, I looked back at my room and could see the tiniest of scratches on the wall where a table or two had barely scraped by.

A buzzing noise pulled my attention from the wall. Nearby, a phone was buzzing, but when I looked around the room, there wasn’t one in sight. The phone rang twice before someone picked it up. “Hello,” they said, and the sound was low, gravelly. I recognized it as my father’s voice. But there was another layer to it now. I could hear the little clicks his teeth made as he talked and the way his tongue rolled over the L’s. On the other end of the phone, I heard a woman’s voice say my name. _Ms. McCall_. “No, Melissa.” My father sighed. “He hasn’t woken up yet. We had to tie him down around three.” I tried to reach forwards once more and found myself stopped short. A set of ropes were tied tightly around my wrists, securing me to the hospital bed railing and rubbing the skin red. Ms. McCall asked him why. “He was thrashing around wildly! And whining! Like a-like a dog!”

Another look down at my arm and I saw bloody bandages wrapped around my forearm in the spot where Peter had bitten me. There was no longer pain there, instead, the pain was in my ears, as the rusting door handle turned and squeaked open. In the doorway, my father still talking to his mother in the hallways behind him, was Scott. Under his left eye was a quickly healing bruise; I could see the blood coming from the busted capillaries underneath his skin beginning to fade away. He scowled when he looked at me, a deep growl rumbling in his chest.

“Scott?”

He ignored me, instead, he growled and stormed to my bedside, the sound of his sneakers pounding against the floor making me flinch. “Where the hell were you last night?” He demanded and I could see, deep in his eyes, the gold flickering.

“What?”

“Where were you? We all needed you and you weren’t there!” His heart rate sped up, picking up as his anger grew.

“Wait!" He clenched his jaw tightly, eyes glaring harshly down at me. "How did you even know I was here?"

“Your dad called me this morning! Said you'd been hurt!" I watched, intrigued, as the vein in his temple pulsed. "Is this where you were last night? When we all needed you?"

“Who’s ‘ _we_ ”?”

“Everyone!” Scott took a moment, taking in a breath. “Even Jackson was there,” he finally said.

“Wait, Jackson?” I remembered seeing him, the ghostly look on his face when he watched Lydia lying still in her hospital bed. “Jackson was where?”

“At Derek’s!” His nostrils flared and his hands balled into fists at his side.

“Why was everyone at Derek’s?”

“Well,” Scott sighed, sitting himself down beside me. “I was trying to save him, Peter was trying to recruit the both of us for his pack,” I flinched at the mention of Peter’s name, his eyes flashing once more in my mind before Scott continued, “and the Argent’s were there to kill us. Derek, Peter and I, I mean.”

“Argent’s? Was Allison there?” Scott nodded. “And did she try to kill you?”

“Yes, and no.” There was an edge to his voice that made me sit up straighter.

“What exactly happened last night, Scott?”

He paused, looking back at the closed door, where behind it my father was still talking to Ms. McCall.

“Everything?” He asked finally.

Outside I could hear footsteps approaching. The footsteps were heavy and whoever it was smelled of old leather and gun powder. Shortly after, my father was saying goodbye to Ms. McCall. “Well, tell me when he wakes up, okay? I want to see him.” My father breathed out a sigh, “will do, Melissa,” he said. “Alright then, g’bye.” The sound of the phone clicked off and the person caught my father’s attention. Soon, he was conversing cheerily with whoever it was; apparently, they wanted to see me.

I nodded in response to his question.

“Everything."


End file.
